Forgiven?
by Kashito91
Summary: It doesn't matter how long it takes; your consciouss will eat away at you, for everything you've done.
1. Forgiven

**Ok, here's my newest... thing. I didn't know what to title it for ages; hence its colossal delay. I was not in a good place when writing this... and come to think of it; the more and more I like my stories; the darker and darker they become. My only hope is that someone out there likes this.**

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><p>His brain hurt. It hurt to think, it hurt to move, stand still or anything else he wanted to do. He'd been stuck in this hellhole for nearly a year; offworld but still alive. He gazed into the mirror; his reflection cracked and broken as he peered through the shattered remains; his grey furred body reflected into the empty room. He'd never wanted to betray them, especially as significantly as he did. His conscious had been eating away from him the moment he'd taken the job... well, it was either take the job and live; or die immediately. He was a coward.<p>

As respectable as dying for your race is; it wasn't his idea of a life fulfilled. He still had wants, hopes and dreams to chase after. He wanted to travel the stars, see what untold wonders existed beyond the Milky Way; unravel the mysteries of the cosmos and contemplate life in a darkened room; classical music his only guide to any sort of answer.

He sighed sadly; the Prelude to Tristan and Isolde playing on his old stereo system. The music was from an Earth composer that he'd managed to snag a copy of on a fast stop-off when giving a former friend a ride to the planet she had called home. Watching her disappear while he hovered 10,000 feet above the surface was just too much; so he got out of there fast. She had been his friend... but then he had to be a fucking jackass and kidnap her... He didn't know why; it wasn't like he was going to take her more then 20 miles away from the fighting.

It had been more then enough for her to hate him though; she hated him with a passion he'd never seen before. He shook his head and trudged his way through his ruined apartment; the black roads and cities peeling out from his window to expand eternally in all directions he could see. If only he'd never chosen to take the offer; then he'd have never been in this mess at all. He could have been his own rat, settled down with a nice girl, maybe a kit to pass on the family line... it was all shattered memories and dreams; just like the crockery he'd broken the previous week.

Whenever he walked around outside; everyone gave him a look of pure disgust. Despite not even being the same species as them; they still hated the rust coloured mouse with a passion. They knew what he had done. He'd sold out the last remaining pockets of resistance on his home planet. There was nothing worse then a traitor; especially a loner who could pull such a colossal feat. Plutark had its share of lunacy and backstabbing, but even it had its limits. Even if he wasn't a Martian; he would have been despised.

The rat sighed; then headed back home; his arms laden with barely enough food to survive another week. He knew his time would come. As he trudged up the stairs; the verbal harrasment began again. Shrugging it all off; as though he was deaf, he entered his apartment, and put the shopping in the kitchen. With a hard sweep of his tail; he cleared his desk of the detritus piling high on its surface. He pulled out a pen and a blank piece of paper, and began to write.

The rat sighed; wiping away the tears that were dampening his muzzle. He couldn't believe how much the remorse had hit him over the last year, especially with his best friend back on Mars. She had been the one thing holding the shattered grey rat together. Now, he had nothing to keep his mind from splintering into a million pieces. He walked out, into the bitterly cold rain; the letter now sealed in an envelope, and addressed to Chicago, an earth town. After shoving it into the interstellar post box; the rat walked back to his apartment, stood on his bed, sighed deeply as his hands worked the rope... then he began to swing.

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><p><strong>Three Weeks Later<strong>

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><p>The Last Chance Garage was quiet that Monday morning. There wasn't a cloud in the sky as the famous trio from Mars; the Biker Mice, rolled in. Their human friend; Charlene Davidson, who also owned the garage; was sound asleep in her room. After putting up for 3 years with the mice, she was so used to them coming and going, she'd soundproofed her room so she could get some proper sleep.<p>

As the trio began to heat up the hotdogs and pull out the rootbeers; the mailman arrived. The guy secretly knew about the bros, mainly due to the massive postal delays thanks to their fights on Chicago's streets; and hadn't said a word. If they weren't hurting anyone; they were fine in his book. He slipped the mail through the letterhole in the side door; then went on his way; Throttle giving him a jovial wave as he left.

As the tan mouse began to scan through the letters; he noticed a letter, not only from out of town, but from out of this planet as well. The address wasn't from Mars. Hell, it wasn't even from this side of the galaxy. Tan furred fingers carefully slit it open; revealing only a stained and dirty piece of paper, with writing on it that was hardly recognizable. The silence in the room was broken as the tan mouse began to read the note aloud.

"_Throttle, Vinnie and Modo;_

_I know you are probably still consider me more of a traitor then anyone else left alive on Mars; but there's a side of the story you do not know. Mine."_

At this ambiguous start; the trio of mice couldn't make anything out. Who was it from; where did it come from, and could it be a fake? They didn't know. The only clue they had was the document in hand.

"_When I was little; my parents died. I think I was like 3 when it happened. I was bounced around between orphanages of all kinds. From the upper class; to a slum that barely had enough cash to feed us. When I was 7, I got kicked out. There were too many new arrivals coming in to cope. I wasn't a bad kit or anything, but they booted me anyway. I wandered around Brimstone for months, maybe a year at least before I found anyone. His name was Crossfire. He was a mouse; but he was a sleaze, how you guys still picture me, and probably how Mars will remember me for the remainder of history."_

Deep in the back of their minds; alarm bells were ringing; but they couldn't quite place who was involved in the memories...

"_He taught me how to cheat, lie, and twist any and all situations to my advantage. I used that power, a lot. Then, after I turned 13, Crossfire told me that there was a new order coming to Mars. He threatened me with death; and being only a kid, I wanted to live. I wanted to live so bad, I swore I'd do anything to keep myself alive. He gave me over to Jonathan Jarlsberg; an absolute shit of a fish who was taken out mere weeks after I was given to him. I thought the Martian Mice army would take me in and give me a second chance at beginning my life again. They didn't. Instead they turned their guns on me and nearly killed me. I fled; cold, scared and alone. No-one wanted me."_

Whoever this mystery writer was; it was obvious he had gone through a lot of trouble in his life. A few stray tear drops lined the edges of the page as the three mice continued to read...

"_It's not like I didn't try either. I had signs up all over Brimstone, just wanting work and a place to start. I managed to scrape together enough for a decent meal, but not enough for transport. When Brimstone fell; the fish swept through and took me again. I did all I could to not fall; but they fucked me up good. That Mind Bender thing... they put Stoke through...I'm sad to say, but they did it to me 10 times. They never tested how long it would last. It almost erased my own consciousness and everything else I held dear, and replaced it with all that Plutark pumped out."_

The three mice were now in shock. If this guy HAD gone through that horrific machine as many times as the note said he did; they would have easily thought it was a traitor. Finally, the pieces fell into place; one pair of scarlet eyes going wide. "Bros..." Vinnie whispered in open mouthed shock; his entire body trembling at the realization. "It's from Mace..."

"_Skipping over the obvious betrayal; there's one thing I am determined to clear my name about. Harley. When I took her; I only did it to get her away from the madness that was surrounding her. Those words I said, they were just for show. I never wanted to harm her. I couldn't risk her going back, knowing that the fish could be in control of the whole planet. I took her with me; I kept her safe, but once she found out about my betrayal; she never trusted me again. Hell, she slept with a pistol clutched in her tail and one next to her hand; in case I tried anything; not that I would anyway."_

The white mouse's fury was threatening to explode out of him in a rage of proportions never seen by his bros before. Harley had been the light that lit up the darkness that permeated Vinnie's soul. It had crushed him beyond hope when Mace had kidnapped her, and now; to know that this letter had been written by the hand of his sworn enemy; he wanted to burn it to cinders. The tan mouse's voice was beginning to waiver a bit as he continued to read the letter.

"_She knew I was her only ticket of safe passage anywhere; most of the remaining solar system is fish infested. Despite bringing Mars down; I was despised. Even though it doesn't seem like it; even Plutarkians have limits on how much backstabbing is too much. I knew I wasn't wanted anywhere, so I scraped enough gills out of several accounts to rent a small place. I'm probably gonna be kicked out next week, but I don't care. As long as you get this note; that's all that matters."_

By now; Vinnie was going insane; furiously pacing around the kitchen, until Modo forced him into a chair, arms pinned to his sides as the grey mouse chained him there; Throttle's soft voice continuing to read the note.

"_Vinnie, you still have a chance at getting Harley back. A year ago, I made a one off trip to Mars; disguised. Harley was too. I've given her a new name, as much money as I could spare and a sincere apology. She's changed everything; but not her memory. She's now got black fur; colour contacts in her eyes and a couple tattoos. If you can track her down; you take care of her, understand?"_

The chains holding the white furred hurricane to the chair were threatening to break under the strain Vinnie was putting on them. With a nasty CRACK, the chair broke; the chains sliding off the white mouse's body as he began to cry his eyes out. He couldn't believe it. After all this time, he now had one final chance at getting the girl of his dreams back in his arms.

"_I just hope this gets to you... before I die. I hope this heals at least one wound, among the thousands I've caused._

_Goodbye bros..._

_Mace."_

The scream that tore from the white mouse's throat sent shivers down the spines of everyone who could hear it. It was so loud, it woke Charley from her sleep, and she had never heard any of the guys let out a sound so heart-wrenching before. She raced down the stairs to find Vinnie crying his eyes out; Modo slumped in a chair, and Throttle's hands shaking slightly; all notion of breakfast now forgotten. She tried getting a word out of her mice; but no explanation came. The only sound in the room came from Vinnie; who slowly raised his head to the ceiling; his voice almost indistinguishable from the noise outside. "Harley... I'm coming for you..."


	2. Frozen

**I'm back... and with something new. I've had a lot of things happen with college; and I had my wisdom teeth removed too, so I thik those have impacted my output. Another thing that has hurt my output substantially is loss of communication with The Third Biker Scholar. I've seen her fics go up, and as much comfort as that is; it's not where we used to be. We'd be chatting every day... Please Sarah... get in touch with me... v.v**

**_REVIEWS ARE EXTREMELY WELCOME!_**

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><p>Blood red eyes gleamed in the blackened void of space; moonlight reflecting in the metal mask that hid the right side of his face as they raced past it. He was a wreck and he knew it; he knew it from his skin to his soul; and he'd remain that way until he had Harley back in his arms. As they'd roared off from Earth; all three mice's hearts had been torn to shreds. After the icy goodbye they'd given their human friend, Charley Davidson; they'd boarded their newly restored ship without a backwards glance.<p>

Just a few minutes into the flight; they'd heard the most heart-wrenching sound ever conceived. In the shock of their departure; Charley had unintentionally clicked on the CB Radio that she had used to communicate with the guys for their 3 year stay with them. She tried her hardest to stave off the oncoming wave, but there was nothing she could have done. With a choked sob; she began to cry; all three mice, nearly 1,000 miles above the surface going dead silent.

Her soft cries turned into a scream of desperation; of devotion and denial; tears were flowing thick and fast; her mind enveloped in a free fall that threatened to destroy her to her foundations. No-one was willing to cut her outpouring off; but then it started to sound nasty. "You traitorous bastards! YOU PROMISED NOT TO LEAVE ME!" All three mice turned away, especially Vinnie. He nearly moved to the next room.

"You PROMISED! YOU THREE DID! YOU THREE, LOW, FUCKING UNCARING BASTARDS!" She screamed; blindly throwing everything she could reach; tears streaming down her face. "I fucking poured my heart into those rides you love... and now you just leave me to die of a broken heart? I hope you all fucking die in a basement with Death wa-" Suddenly, everything stopped; a finger jabbed deep into the button to kill the com.

"Let's get this done..." The white mouse's voice was icy cold and unforgiving as he rammed the throttle open; determined to get Harley back. They rocketed towards Mars; severing any and all ties they'd formerly had with the blue planet they'd called home. All three mice were now deep in the throes of an emotional crisis; knowing they'd abandoned their closest friend of 3 years with absolutely no warning or any way to cope.

The hours passed almost painfully slow, and it only served to torment all three mice more. By the time Mars had filled the cockpit windows; all three were no longer speaking more then absolutely essential. They eventually touched down on the surface of the red planet; performing a textbook landing procedure. When everyone saw them, they were in disbelief. It was though all likeability had been sucked out of them and had been replaced with cold, bitter cynicism.

"Commander..." The feminine voice sent chills down Throttle's spine. It reminded him of what he had now become; and the tiny shred of hope that remained in his brain. "Carbine..." The tan mouse bit out; his voice as cold as the ice-caps. The silence was painful and awkward between them as the legendary Biker Mice moved out without a backwards glance.

35 miles of rough riding later; the three mice hadn't spoken once. The atmosphere between them was a powder-keg ready to explode. All three tails were lashing violently as they spied the base they'd called home. It'd been rebuilt since they'd heard any word about it; apparently the Freedom Fighters had pushed back the Plutarkians enough to repair the base, and the Monastery on top. All three mice rumbled to a stop; their bikes engines idling as Vinnie and Throttle dismounted their rides and stared blankly at their former home.

"Think Stoke's gonna be pissed at what we've done? Charley WAS our best friend... and we just abandoned her with no warning" Modo mused quietly as he shut off his bike and dismounted; the soft breeze ruffling his fur. "Modo, shut up... It's not like you had anyone who meant the world to you." Vinnie bit out; his voice nearly a snarl; his movements tense and deliberate; as though his natural flow had vanished.

"So, what; you make a snap decision, beg Charley to try and patch up the Thunderpipe and then when she does manage to rebuild the whole thing out of her own cash; we leave with no word of warning?" The grey mouse roared before he turned away; his mind spinning out of control. "How fucking LOW can you possibly sink, Van Wham? Both Charley and Harley meant the world to you; but because Harley didn't flat out reject you doesn't mean you can shatter the heart of the poor girl we've now left behind!"

The low growl that was coming from the white mouse would have frozen a weaker mouse's blood. Most, if not all of Vinnie's fur was standing on end. He was more enraged then ever, and it was taking all his self-control to stop himself punching his friend in the jaw. "Charley knew what she wanted... she didn't want me..."

"Vincent; I am ashamed of you..." The venomous sound of the tan mouse's voice echoed over the barren plains. "You just fucking tore Charley-girl's heart out once you found out Harley's still alive. As your commanding officer; I hereby strip you of your rank and your weaponry... Your blaster... NOW!" The last word was barked out so furiously it made everyone flinch. The white mouse sighed bitterly, then threw his laser to the sand.

"If I'd known you'd turn out to be a pair of fucking rats; I'd never have joined you..." Vincent growled out as he mounted his bike again. "Don't bother finding me. I never wanna see you two fuckers as long as I remain on this planet." The white mouse swung his ride around; then roared off to the nearest town in a cloud of blinding red dust; his former bros rooted to the spot. Throttle then shook his head and sighed bitterly; a tear forming in his eyes; despite the orbs being metal.

"It seems... this is the end... of the Biker Mice from Mars..."


	3. Sinéad

**Damn! I'm on fire this week! Well, not really ^^;  
>This has been kicking around for a while; but I think my inspiration has come back! :D<strong>

**Hopefully I can bash more of this out!  
><strong>

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><p>The night breeze was cool as it blew in the open window. The small room was packed with make-up supplies; a small bed, a large multi-unit stereo and a small kitchen. This was the world she'd existed in for the last year and a half. She knew she had been abducted in the war, so to make the fact almost untraceable, she'd altered her appearance. Everyone just thought she was another mouse who'd survived the Plutarkians and that she'd been freed. Should anyone truly find out who she was though... a shiver went down her spine at the thought.<p>

She stepped into the bathroom and turned on the shower; the water cascading over her body; her fur sticking to her skin as she began cleaning herself up. Her waist length black hair shimmered with health; even before she began wetting it to apply the shampoo. Her eyes gazed over the scars that dotted her skin; the tattoos that she'd gotten in the intervening years; the imperfections that had made up her past and present.

She moved automatically, washing the shampoo out of her hair; her hands applying conditioner as she continued to chew over the life she had maintained before. She had been a mechanic; regarded as one of the best in her field. She'd worked tirelessly to support the soldiers who were really fighting for their freedom; not the Army which had been blinkered and led astray. She sighed deeply, just wishing she could return her fur to the colour it used to be; to throw away the mask she'd been made to wear; but she couldn't. The price of revealing her true self was too great.

She stepped out of the shower; absent-mindedly drying her hair quickly as she heard a knock at the door. Her sense of privacy had been shredded by the war, and her current profession rarely gave any to her. The male at the door couldn't help his gaze as she strode around her room; fixing her appearance as though he wasn't there at all. "What is it; Crankshaft?" Her icy voice cracked across the open space like a whip.

Crankshaft visibly winced at the tone of her voice. She had caught him spying. "You're on in twenty minutes, beautiful... just enough time to ta-" he was immediately cut off by a very solid knee to his genitalia. He dropped to the floor, cradling his crotch. "Thank-you, Shaft; but I won't be waxing yours within my lifetime. Stay the fuck out of my room and NEVER disregard my privacy."

The door slammed shut on his elongated muzzle; making the rat whimper in pain. He technically had deserved the abuse he'd gotten; but he wasn't going to admit it. He got up gingerly, then shuffled away, still cradling his heavily bruised cargo; thankful she hadn't done worse to him.

Back in the room; the female mouse sighed sadly, her thoughts going into overdrive. _"As much as I feel sorry for Crankshaft; I can't have him invading my room when I'm changing"._ She wandered around the room, fixing her appearance before opening her wardrobe. _"Now, what to wear... it has to be tasteful, but attractive; revealing, but decent... hmmm..." _Her thoughts trailed off as she thought about Crankshaft again; analysing his character.

Crankshaft was a 6 foot 8 rat who though he was the Gods' gift to every woman on Mars; the ultimate ladies man, and charmer. He was wrong on both accounts; she'd seen his shuddered visibly, the tremor going through her body at the very thought of the rat's filthy room. _"Okay, stop it; you are NOT going there again. You've drank enough Venusian Dragon Whiskey to knock out ten rats and yet you still can't get rid of that image?"_ She raged to herself as she finally found the dress she wanted.

The answer was obviously a no, for when she closed her eyes; she saw it again: _She was standing in the door-way; Immediately to her left, against the wall, was a low quality stereo system. In the wardrobe on the southern wall was a collection of revealing outfits and bondage gear; some of which was still stained. In the middle of his room was a filthy, testosterone soaked excuse for a bed; the sheets pulled back to expose the rat's toys: 10 dildos, all obscenely large and some very recently used. She had to suppress her gag reflex as her eyes passed to the small bathroom he had. It was filthy, as though he couldn't have been bothered to actually use it._

She couldn't stop it. She ran to the bathroom as fast as she could; sank to her knees and let her body take over. She heaved and heaved; desperate to just stop the craziness. After she finished; she began groping blindly for the emergency bottle she'd kept there, just in case her memories made a come back. Her slim fingers found it, and she took two hefty gulps; the alcohol burning her throat and making her eyes water.

"_Alright, baby-girl, come on... you don't need to subject yourself to this for much longer. You actually got an education for this kinda thing; unlike all the other sluts who just learned as they went..." _Her mind strayed back further as she put on the dress, to the days before the war. She had been training in classical dance before the war had broken out. It was there, at the recruitment office after a dance class, she had met the cutest boy she'd ever seen. He had white fur; looked like he was 10 and he was absolutely adorable!

She shook her head; then groped for the remote to her CD player. Blindly pressing the numbers; she pressed play... then sighed in relief as bells began to toll. She shook her head a few times as her mind kept replaying the antics of the white mouse she'd grown to care about; her heart beginning to ache for him again. He was younger, more stupid; but more charming in his own way. She wanted so dearly to have a family with him; but he, as well as most of Mars, had assumed she had been lost to the pages of history.

A gentle knock at the door disturbed her from her memories as she hurriedly finished up her make-up. "Sinéad? You're on in five, babe... better get in the wings." The soft, husky voice of Milo echoed through her room. The lithe 5 foot 3 mouse had grown up as a slave before he'd been freed. She'd always found him great company. "Thanks Milo... I'll be out in a second" She replied, casting one last gaze over her room before she headed out and closed the door.

As she hurried to the stage; her ears picked up something; something she hadn't heard in years. _'No way... could it really?'_ Her mind was now going a million miles an hour. She knew the sound of that super-charged engine as well as she knew her own body. Could it really be him? The mouse she loved with all her heart? The sweet, shy boy she'd met all those years ago?

She had no time to find out; her name was being called out. She took a deep breath and headed up the stairs to face the lights, music... and sex-crazed males.


	4. Hand Of Sorrow and One of These Days

**Mice aren't mine. Uni has been evil. Reviews, comments and so on are all welcome.**

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><p>He hated himself. The cherry red racer was beginning to look more like blood red as he pulled up outside the bar; the sun setting behind him. <em>'Fucking Throttle and Modo, always kicking me to the curb because I get one last shot at romance'<em> He raged as he pushed open the door, then sat at the bar. _'I never wanna see those bastards again as long as I fucking live...'_ He ordered a stiff drink, then gazed around the room. The place had been a theatre, in a time where plays and films had been common; now though, it had been converted into a strip bar... a strip bar that seemed to be doing very well.

The white mouse took a long pull of his drink, gasping as the powerful liquor scorched his throat. He held back a cough, grinned evilly; then downed the rest in one go; waving at the bar for another round as the lights in the place went dark; a single loan spotlight on the stage. "Good Evening, Gents. Tonight, you're in for a treat from two of our best dancers." The small voice rang around the room as it announced the night's program, but the white mouse' s ears weren't working. All he wanted to do was drink away his pain.

"First up, we have our lovely Sinéad; who's sure to give you boys a show to remember, and in case you're not watching show A; we have Carmen on right after her, to make sure your wild desires are met thoroughly."

The little voice died off as the music began and a black furred angel walked in from the right of the stage. The white mouse's eyes went wide as he drank her figure. She was 5 foot 8; would be a size 8; dressed in a body-hugging black dress; with silver frills winding around it; a pair of black 3 inch platform heels adorned her feet; her hair twisted up into an elegant bun. She looked stunning. His mouth went dry; his tail went taught and his jeans grew tight as the music continued; and her routine began...

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><p>The moment she walked on stage and gazed into the crowd, she knew his face. That metal mask gave him away above everything else. The fact no-one else had seen him was a miracle in itself. He looked absolutely miserable, but then he saw her and his whole demeanour changed. His eyes were locked on her and no-one else. <em>'Come on, baby... time to work your magic...'<em> she thought to herself as she began the routine she'd practised...

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><p>He could almost make out the royal blue g-string she wore under the gown as she twisted, pranced, teased and moved over the course of the song; his eyes burning her body into his memory. Had he not known better; he could have sworn that this girl was Harley... but there was no way... or was there?<p>

All too soon, it was over. The white mouse had been staring, transfixed, at the angel on stage. His heart ached terribly. He could have sworn that, with a colour change and different eyes, that was her; the mouse of his dreams, his angel that had been stolen from him more than 8 years ago: Harley.

Her delicate hands picking up the gown as she retreated backstage. He was thankful his ears were still working. Now he knew her new name: Sinéad.

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><p>Her dressing room was quiet... well, as quiet as it could be considering her location. Her graceful hands slowly undid the gown as she pressed more buttons on her stereo; getting the soft music pumping through her room; her body moving to the pulsing, pounding beat; only her underwear was on... for now.<p>

She changed into a pair of slightly over-sized pants and a t-shirt that had seen its fair share of loving wear; but these were clothes she enjoyed to wear. Her mind was set that she didn't want to show off her assets unless she had to... She hated working in this place, but it was a job and a roof over her head. Not everyone here was a jack-ass either... Milo was great fun to hang around with... A few of the other guys too... Just Crankshaft really knew how to piss her off.

The music on her stereo changed; a weird syncopated melody, but the smile on her face spoke volumes; it had been planned. It had fit in perfectly. As she slumped down onto her bed, she couldn't help but think of the handsome, white mouse she'd seen after so many years. His muscled physique; his metallic mask; those eyes which seemed to be x-raying her every move...

Without her even thinking, the song so ingrained in her head; she began pounding on the wall; and she grabbed the gimicky voice-changer next to her bed, then opened her mouth...

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><p>It hadn't been difficult for him to get back-stage. All he did was say she was an old friend. No-one else asked any questions. Hell, he could have been a rapist for all they knew. Thankfully, though, he wasn't. As he drew near her door; he read her name-plate to make sure it was correct; then his ears picked up something: loud, rapid thumps on the wall. This didn't sound good. Then, another voice came through; it sounded gruff and controlling... and very threatening. "ONE OF THESE DAYS, I'M GOING TO CUT YOU INTO LITTLE PIECES!"<p>

In one smooth motion; he kicked down the door and rushed in; expecting to find someone who was... less than gentlemanly; but no. All he saw past the layer of dust was Sinéad on her bed; a boxy thing and a mask covering her muzzle, and the stereo playing a tune; her eyes wide in shock as she pulled away the mask from her face. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!"

Immediately, Vincent's stance went from attacking, to defending; his ears flicked back as his shoulders and arms came forward, shielding his chest slightly. "I thought you were being attacked! It certainly sounded like it! And what the fuck is that box thing?!"

The female huffed, then re-wound the song; snatches of audio playing through the speakers before she found the spot. Pressing the play button; her syncopated rhythm started again; but this time she didn't do anything. As the masked, white male listened; he heard scattered beats through-out; which sounded very similar to what she had banged on the wall; and then came the voice: "One of these days, I'm going to cut you into little pieces". The song seemed almost familiar to him; but he put that out of his head. "Okay, so I get that it's in there; but why did you bang on the wall? Also, why the hell was it so loud?!"

Sinéad pouted again, then put the mask to her muzzle; then spoke; the voice coming out extremely similar to the recording. "Voice changer. It's analogue, so it works on volume. I just felt like being loud..." She smirked as she pulled the mask away. "As for why I beat the wall, it's a favourite song of mine, so I like adding a little extra oomph to it."

With a very confused look on his face, the white male just sighed. "Whatever... I'm sorry I kicked your door down... I'll leave you alone..." As he spoke, he had the most crushed, hopeless expression on his face; almost certain that this wasn't the girl he was looking for... despite how similar they sounded. Had he been blindfolded; he would have sworn that was Harley's voice.

"Not so fast, handsome..." Her voice cut through the air like a hot knife through butter. "First, you are going to fix the door... and second... I'd like to meet you again..." His ears perked up immediately as her voice sent shivers down his spine. He wheeled around and gazed into her eyes; and in that moment; she knew that this was the man she had been waiting for... for the last 8 years.

"Where and When?"


End file.
